


Lost in the Rain, Found in Your Voice

by BabyChocoboAlchemist



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Chapter 13 hints, Exploring Prompto's backstory, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyChocoboAlchemist/pseuds/BabyChocoboAlchemist
Summary: Prods at Chapter 13 and Prompto's background. Prompto gives Ignis a glimpse of the darkness within, and ends up getting his first kiss-all in one night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the Promnis tag on Tumblr, where a gallery of Prompto/Ignis magic awaits you. Also inspired by our baby chocobo's history, which will hopefully be explored soon in his DLC episode. :) Enjoy!

Gone. Gone was the unsteady calm he hoped would last the night. 

Prompto was gone. 

Eos had been turned inside out, ripping the air out of Ignis' lungs, transforming his heart into a battering ram. The last time he had to struggle with anyone was when Noctis, barely able to touch his father's knee, was forced into a chasm of nightmares. Prompto had been seized by his own visions, demons none of them could see but would've given anything to kill.

Gone. It was all gone, the night's promise of calm, the sound of water dancing under the stars. Gone. A stay in Galdin Quay should've done the trick on their photographer, should've been the elixir Prompto needed to leave recent nightmares behind. It turned out to be anything but. Their gunner, their ray of light, still fell into darkness none of them could fathom. And it was eleven o'clock that night, in a rainstorm without end, that Prompto bolted. Left behind the room he and Ignis shared.

Prompto. Ignis held him down and called out his name, desperately wishing Noctis or Gladiolus would show up with the young photographer's manual. The prince and his gladiator were far away, tucked away in a sanctuary of dreams, while Prompto was a million miles away from quiet, tossing, turning, shrieking at the top of his lungs. Ignis' efforts to hold him down, to awaken him, came to a quick end-Prompto tore out of his friend's grasp and vanished, as quick as a chocobo.

Ignis wished chocobos weren't such migraine inducing creatures.

Still calling out his friend's name, Ignis ran. Ran after the retreating figure that threatened to vanish. Without a trace. Rain battered his head, shoulders, back, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was in front of him, escaping, lost and torn by a darkness no one could put their finger on.

Ignis ran, ignoring how the rain pounded against him, desperate to pull Prompto out of it and back into a world of warmth. The night promised to be simple, promised to be quiet, with the photographer's smiles lighting up all of Eos and the waters radiant with peace. Fragrant, compassionate peace. But it was all dream, the peace he believed in, proven by how loud his heartbeat was. Proven by the sight of Prompto's hands clamped on the sides of his head.

Ignis ran. Ran under a field of rain, under a field of masked moonshine. When he believed Prompto would become the rain itself, he ran faster. Something soon fell off his face-his glasses. Struck the rain-soaked bridge. Abandoned by their owner. Ignis ran, still able to see the figure in front of him. Tackled the figure in front of him, pinning Prompto down by his waist. Pinning him before Prompto could throw himself off the bridge.

Ignis grimaced, wishing he could trade places with Gladiolus. Gladio would've knocked Prompto clean out by tackling him. But the need to trade places with his muscular brother vanished, as soon as the gunner started fighting back, hellbent on tearing himself away again. Hating himself for not knowing how to handle a struggling chocobo like an expert, Ignis found himself stricken by a blend of panic and confusion, both of them hitting him like Ramuh's fists.

"Prompto, cease this madness! Stop this at once!"

Prompto's voice was shrill, hoarse, battling against the melee of the falling rain. Rain created ripples in the waters that surrounded them, urging Ignis to never forget how fragile the younger man was, how Prompto could easily melt into the night, never to be seen again. Ignis fought off fists, fingers working their way towards his face, wanting to claw off flesh, wanting to claw out his exposed eyes.

"No! Lemme go! Let go of me! Get off, Ignis! Please!"

Ah. Awareness. Prompto was at least aware of his presence. But Ignis couldn't stop there, knowing there was a lot more darkness to fight through before the dawn. Daybreak wasn't even in sight. Thank the Astrals Prompto wasn't strong enough to beat him off. He might've been shooting for his eyes, but Ignis was still able to hold on, still had a chance at preventing the gunner from disappearing.

"I refuse to release you! You're coming back with me this instant, even if I have to knock you unconscious and drag you back inside!"

Prompto was weakening but refused to relent, hands still attempting to claw at Ignis' eyes, arms, legs still battling against the weight of his friend. "Let me go, please," he demanded, weeping, tears joining the rain.

"I don't wanna hurt you!"

"I don't know what madness you speak of, but it shall end HERE!"

Weeping, rain, rain, so many tears. So many tears falling, meeting the heavens, in a corner of time that should've been peaceful. Rain. Falling, falling, threatening to go on without end. Stricken with guilt he hadn't felt since tiny Noctis told him 'I hate you', Ignis seized Prompto's arms. Forced them against the bridge. Forced all of his weight against the younger man, hovering above him, Prompto's sadness forcing cyanide into his blood.

Everything was soft, quiet, loud, unforgiving. Ignis fell into his friend's eyes and found heartache, sadness, pain that never should've been anywhere near Prompto. Only the melody of rain painted their next seconds, their next breaths, and in those seconds Ignis fell even deeper. In those seconds, in those shared breaths, Ignis found a small creature. A heartbroken, tiny creature desperately clinging to life, not even sure if he would last the night.

Prompto's voice was like a blade cutting into his flesh. His words weren't any easier to bear.

"I'm scared."

Ignis, his body still pinned against the gunner's, spoke softly. Knowing Prompto would bolt if he lifted his voice any higher than a murmur. "Of what?"

"Of myself," came the hoarse, frail response. The bladesman grimaced again, feeling light, time, slip between his fingers. Letting his guard down, for even a second, would result in failure.

And that was something he could never afford to tolerate.

The nightmare continued to unfold, darkening with every drop of rain. The look on Prompto's face cleaved Ignis' spirit in half, as there was pain, pain, too much pain. "There's something wrong with me," the gunslinger whimpered, speaking not only to the bladesman but to himself, words rippling through time's waters.

"Something wrong is inside of me, Ignis."

Progress, but at the same time, twenty steps back were taken. Ignis was finally discovering what his friend's nightmares were about-a glimpse of them, but it was bittersweet progress nonetheless. "What in Shiva's name are you going on about?" he asked, horrified, the Astrals shaking his body, mind and spirit like a ragdoll. Prompto's tiny smile made it all worse, forcing daggers into the chef's spine.

"I see it. I see it every night. Every time I close my eyes, it happens."

Ignis was halfway between furious and urgent. An odd place he rarely ever found himself in. 

"Prompto, for the love of all that is holy, would you please explain yourself?"

"My dreams. They let me know I'm not human. They let me know I'm something ugly. Something that's gonna hurt you guys. So I can't. I can't stay. I can't, Ignis. I can't. I have to go."

"This insanity has gone on long enough," Noctis' advisor snarled, still holding his friend down by the wrists, unwilling to let go even if Ramuh ordered him to.

"Damn it all to Hell! You're coming with me, and these ramblings of yours are going to stop!"

The sadness on Prompto's face worsened, sending his friend's spirit into a deathgrip. Everything had fled from the photographer's eyes-the hope, the warmth, the sunshine, the light. All of it, gone. Gone.

"I can't. I'm not going, Iggy."

"Your wish will only be granted if you kill me," Noctis' tactician growled, eyes flashing, wrath, frustration and sadness swelling inside of him. "And mind you, I'm not an easy chap to kill."

A chuckle struck Ignis like a hammer. "What's the big deal? You can replace me. I know you can."

'What?'


	2. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis prevents Prompto from making a huge mistake, igniting a huge turning point in their friendship.

"You don't need me. You'll be fine. So, thanks for everything, Iggy."

Electricity pierced the advisor's insides, merciless, primal. Ignis tried to get up, tried to say something, tried to stop the nightmare from finishing but couldn't. Tried to wake up but couldn't. Chest screaming, heart racing, he couldn't. Arms, legs, everything felt like iron as Prompto started walking away. Smiling.

Letting Prompto out of his sight would mean letting Prompto disappear forever. There would be no turning back. No daybreak. No smiles. There would be nothing. Nothing at all. Only silence. Deafening silence. Things that couldn't be. Things that would kill them. Noctis. Gladiolus.

Things that would kill him.

He rose. A force within him compelled him to rise. He rose and grabbed Prompto by the arm, whirled him around and kissed him, pressing his lips against the gunner's in urgency, panic, wrath. Longing. Pressing not only his lips but his entire body against his friend, every thread of his being throbbing. Pulsating, screaming, with the need to keep the younger man close. Safe.

Their foreheads met, Prompto's eyes laden with pain and shock, almost concealed by the golden wheat falling in front of them. Ignis' eyes like lightning, thunder, storms that could not be broken. "How many times must I repeat myself?" the advisor asked, breathless, determined to keep his gaze on Prompto and Prompto alone.

"You're coming back with me, and that's that."

Prompto's protest was loud, tearful. "But-"

"I won't have it! No more! I don't know what's going on with you, but some foul beast drilled the most indecent ideas into your mind, and they must be dealt with! Never have I been so offended, Prompto, and believe me, I've been around my fair share of idiocy! You speak of being replaced as though you are an insect of no worth, but it is impossible to replace the sun if it falls! Have you taken leave of your senses?!"

…

"Now, if you've got no more of your madness to torment me with, let me-"

The panic on Prompto's face fired a volley of arrows into the bladesman's heart. "Iggy?"

"Yes?"

The words struck out against the rainstorm in thunderous fear, sadness, hurt, loneliness. "I'm still scared! I'm scared and I don't know what to do! I'm scared, Ignis!"

A wail ripped itself from the photographer's throat, sending another volley of arrows into Ignis' heart. Noctis' advisor swept the weeping Prompto back into his arms and fell to his knees, rocking him, stroking his back, murmuring 'there's nothing to be afraid of, I'm here', soft, gentle, patient. He peppered Prompto's face in rain-soaked kisses, kissing his forehead, nose, collarbone, visualizing his body heat entering the younger man's soaked, cold body.

Prompto returned some of his kisses, shivering, weeping, sobbing so hard he was sure he'd break. Hoping Ignis would put him back together.

Without a single word, Ignis assured him he would. And then-


	3. Dreamdust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto dives deeper into a bond that promises to be rejuvenating, uplifting and wondrously beautiful. Meanwhile, Ignis lets him have it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis comforting Prompto like its no big deal is always tons of fun to write. It's a great alternative to Promptis, and it's exciting to dive deeper into Ignis' softer side. :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading my story! :)

Noctis let out a long, loud sigh.

"Are you kidding me, Ignis? You kept Prompto out in the rain that long? C'mon, genius, you know chocobos can't be kept in the rain!"

Ignis burns holes into Noctis' skull, arms folded, wielding fury that would frighten any of the Six. "Well, perhaps you should provide me with instructions on how to properly care for him," he snarled, as though Noctis had promised him a manual months ago.

"While you're at it, find out how to deal with him when he spouts off nonsense. I never know thought fluffy yellow birds were troublesome, until a certain migraine came into our lives."

Noctis' voice was warm, laden with fondness, gratitude. "Seriously? You mean to tell me you kissed a migraine?"

Ignis' voice was not only in its usual magical, velvety form, but firm as well. "Noct, I kissed him because I care for him," he growled, as though it should've been obvious. "If you would just instruct me on how to care for him, the heartache that preceded the kiss would've been avoided."

"But you kissed him in the rain. Can't get any cooler than that, right?"

"There isn't anything 'cool' about having Prompto catch a cold," the chef snapped. Prompto chuckled through the fog his body was submerged in, always loving the sound of an irritated Ignis. It was at that moment he realized he was safe, really, truly safe, tucked in bed, in the room he shared with the bladesman. The man that had just brought him back to life. Noctis was there as well. Both men kept talking about him as though he really were a rare, sacred creature, something they were naturally inclined to love, to care for.

Everything felt right, warm, so safe, as the rain continued to fall.

As Gladio's voice entered the fray, the photographer felt himself slipping back into slumber, knowing he'd awaken with a pretty hefty cold but knowing he'd also awaken in a world far away from his nightmares, far away from the loneliness that permeated his very being.

Prompto went to sleep with a smile, knowing he was in the care of two friends, two brothers, that loved him, and a beautiful stallion that was stupid enough to kiss him.

\----------------------

His brothers were gone. Ignis was all that remained, rooted in a chair at his bedside. Barely emerging from slumber, proven by the quiet, immaculate calm of his aura. The photographer's face reddened, and not just because of his cold, for it was at that moment memories struck him. Lightning reconstructed visions, images of a rain-soaked Ignis hovering over him. Worrying about him. Using his weight to keep a certain gunslinger pinned to the bridge.

Rain, amber, voice, demands. All lit a fire in the pit of a soul believed to be broken.

The kiss. Force. Warmth. Ignis grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn around.

Rain. Such sweet scents, closeness, security.

Ignis.

Pain, every last inch of it, melting into the rain. All replaced by sweet, fragrant caresses. Urgency. Ferocity.

Prompto took a deep breath, rose red cheeks and all. Gripping his pillow, he looked into the advisor's eyes and smiled.

"Hi."

Only the rain's lullaby painted their next seconds, all of which felt like eons to Prompto, as they were slow, overflowing with promise, agonizingly slow. Ignis was a silent storm, motionless, eyes quiet but piercing Prompto's with deafening energy.

A thousand words struck the chocobo's lips, but none took form. A gentle hand landing on his forehead cast him into a whirlwind of silence. "Your fever seems to have broken," were the advisor's words, as soft as the candlelight but as fierce as the rain's spirit. His hand traced Prompto's face for a fleeting moment, brushing some of the fallen golden wheat out of his friend's eyes. Shivers ran through the gunslinger's spine, all of them chilling but warm, effervescent, blindingly beautiful. However, the poison lacing Ignis' voice gave him no rest.

"Well. The others will be delighted, I'm sure."

Prompto buried his face in his pillow, masking the fire that swelled inside him, breathed life into him. Just having Ignis near him made him feel like flying, dreaming, believing in something other than the darkness that ate away at him. He felt renewed, exhausted but energized, finally able to breathe after eons of losing himself to nightshade's silence.

"Your glasses. They came back."

"I retrieved them once you were secured," Ignis explained, as quiet as the rain but as fierce as Ifrit's flame. "After Noct and I tucked you in, I found them waiting for me on the bridge. Glad to see you're on the mend, by the way."

The tactician's tone assured Prompto he was anything but glad. The photographer buried himself under his blankets, feeling Ignis' spirit scorch his with white-hot intensity, feeling memories of first kiss blaze through him with the same feverish voltage. "You're still mad at me, huh?" he whimpered, hidden not only from Ignis but from the rest of the world.

Ignis' response was instant. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be, after all of the deplorable drivel you threw at me back there?"

It was at that moment Prompto realized something. Ignis had only been angry with him once before, after he brilliantly decided to challenge a beast that could've ripped the flesh off his bones. The bladesman was rarely anything but calm, so when daybreak was disturbed by a clasp of thunder, a storm was unavoidable. But Ignis' fury was more than just fury, as it held something beautiful. Something great, warm, revitalizing, akin to the rays of light that spilled into the horizon after a brutal winter. Ignis was concerned, worried about him.

Ignis cared about him.

"Would you care for some tea?" the advisor asked, rising to his feet. "I brewed some for you not too long ago. It'll aid you in your recovery."

Prompto, still buried in the sanctuary of his own making, whimpered: "No thanks. Ignis, please don't hate me."

An aggravated sigh drifted out of the advisor's lips. Silence followed that sign of frustration, carrying only the sound of rain with it, but then the absence of sound was broken by the tactician's voice. Ignis' voice carried not only fury but sadness, deep-rooted, searing sadness Prompto had never heard from him before, and it made something blindingly clear-Ignis really did care about him. Cared about him as much as Noctis and Gladiolus did, but in a different way. In a way that smelled of song, of light, of warmth and rain-soaked kisses. "You believe yourself to be a burden," the advisor began, peering out of the nearest window.

"I sympathize with those feelings of helplessness. I am no stranger to them, as I endeavor not to be a burden to His Highness. But to know that you feel expendable-"

Prompto peered out of the covers. Ignis wasn't facing him but the photographer caught the pain on his face, soft but fiery enough to light up the galaxies. "You believe you can be replaced, and that is a most unforgivable crime," the chef snarled, eyes flashing with the light of the unseen moon.

"After all these years, you believe yourself to be of no worth. I find our bond just as precious as the light that greets us every morning. I always have. But to hear that you are oblivious to the warmth I feel, to the innocence and melody you bless my life with, is rather disheartening."

Ignis turned to him, eyes laden with the deepest heartache. "Just as we could not live without the sun, moon and stars, I could not live without you. Noct feels the same, and I'm certain Gladio's opinions on this matter would not differ. You infuse my life with joy that outshines the light of the Astrals, Prompto. You give me a reason to hope, to believe that yes, innocence still exists in this war-torn world of ours."

Silence returned once again, but only for a moment. Ignis' anger was rapidly being replaced with sadness, melting more and more with every word spoken. "I find myself falling sometimes," he confessed, a tender murmur against the falling rain. Shivers struck Prompto's spine once again, with another revelation that came to light. 

Never would Ignis even think of uttering those words to the others, least of all Noctis.

"Slipping into a devastatingly dangerous state of mind, but it is in your smile I am reborn. All I have to do is think of you and I find the strength to go on. So to hear that you find yourself worthless-honestly, I would've been happier if you had committed treason against the Six."

Fear erupted inside the photographer's chest the second Ignis turned away. The sound of rain painted even more of the time that blossomed between them, but Prompto broke the silence that time, weak, frightened, urgent.

"Iggy? Where are you going?"

The response was icier than Shiva's breath. "I'll return shortly."

"Iggy, don't, please. Please don't go. I'm sorry, okay? Don't leave me. Please."

Prompto was sorry. Sorry about making Ignis angry, sorry about making the man he had fallen so madly in love with hate him. He was sorry, stupid, really, truly worthless, heavier than the moon that protected all of Eos. As darkness began to creep back into his vision, dragging him into a world of restless slumber, he felt his eyes burn. His chest, arms, legs, everything. Nothing felt warm any more, and everything became heavy. Loud. Cold, so cold.

"I'm sorry, Ignis. Please don't go. Stay with me, please."

He wouldn't. The light, quiet footsteps assured Prompto he'd be gone in mere seconds. Gone. Ignis would be gone in a few more seconds, and would spend the rest of the night hating him. Ignis would be gone and so would his warmth. The fragrance of rain and amber. Ignis-

Laid a hand on top of his head.

"You've got to be the most diabolical creature in all of Eos. Never knew chocobos could be so crafty."

The tactician cupped Prompto's face, his eyes shining with the rain's tender melody. Their foreheads met yet again as they were housed in a sanctuary of falling rain, cradled in moments that gave promise, security, overwhelming illumination. "And what is this about there being ugliness inside of you?" Ignis asked, his voice spilling sunlight into a shivering, lonely soul.

A smile grew on the chef's face, small yet pure, honest and infinite.

"The treasure I gaze upon gives only light, not the poison of darkness."


End file.
